Wyoming Cowboy Sniper. Nicole Helm

elements for one night.

       And if Dylan didn’t fight them off?

      It was hard to imagine it. He’d moved like a dancer. A really violent, potentially lethal dancer. Dylan Delaney. She would have labeled him the prissiest of the four Delaney kids. Even his younger sister Jen had more spitfire to her than Dylan.

      But he was claiming they’d slept together, that he’d impregnated her somehow, and then she’d watched him fight like a dream.

      Touching fingertips to the bump on her head, where everything throbbed and ached, Vanessa had to wonder if the blow had caused hallucinations.

      Either way, she was alone in the dark in the middle of the Wyoming woods. She lowered herself to the ground, leaning her back against one of the rough trees. It was uncomfortable, and a chill was creeping into the air.

      It would be fine. There wasn’t snow on the ground, and the leaves still clung to the trees, though they’d gone gold in a nod to fall. But they hadn’t completely fallen.

      Luckily, she was too nauseous to be hungry, though she wouldn’t mind a drink of water. But she’d live. She was alive, and she’d live.

      “There you are.”

      She would have screamed if a hand hadn’t clamped over her mouth. She turned her head to find herself face-to-face with Dylan. It was too dark to make out the individual features of his face, and yet she knew it was him.

      “Shh. Okay?”

      She nodded and his hand fell off her mouth.

      “What happened? How are you... How am I... What is going on?”

      Breathing only a little heavily, he scanned the dark. “I managed to incapacitate one.”

       “Incapaci-what?”

      “I didn’t have time to incapacitate the other,” he continued, clearly not worried about how odd his word choice was. “Figured I had a better chance to catch up with you so we’re armed.”

      And he had caught up with her.

      He’d fought off two armed men like he belonged in some sort of action spy movie, run fast enough to catch up with her and now, in his rumpled, torn suit, was holding a giant semiautomatic weapon as if he knew how to use it.

      “Who are you?”

      He flashed her that incongruous grin again, just barely visible in the night around them. “Well, clearly not who you think I am.”

      * * *

      THEY WERE IN TROUBLE. Dylan would be less worried about being stuck he wasn’t quite sure where in the dark if Vanessa wasn’t pregnant and sporting a hell of a head injury. He couldn’t let himself dwell on that too much. All he stood to lose.

      No, a good soldier focused on the mission at hand, not the future.

      He hadn’t had a chance to put his real talents to use, he thought bitterly as he looked at the gun. Knocking out the first guy and getting his weapon had taken more time than Dylan cared to admit, and when the second guy had hopped into the van and tried to run him down, Dylan’s best choice had been to run, not shoot like the sniper he’d been once upon a time.

      “I need an explanation,” Vanessa said, and he knew she wanted to sound strong and demanding, but he heard the tremor of fear in her voice.

      How had this day gone so far to hell so fast?

      “I don’t really have one,” he said softly. None of this made sense to him. A bank robbery was foolish, but they’d gotten away with it. Except they hadn’t taken any money. They’d taken him and Vanessa.

      “More of one than I do.”

      Dylan sighed. He couldn’t see well in the dark, but he was fairly the certain the other man had lost him in the trees where his van couldn’t follow and headlights couldn’t penetrate deep enough.

      Still, Dylan needed to be on alert until morning. Maybe with daylight he’d be able to figure out where they were and get them home.

      Surely someone knew something was wrong at this point, with both him and Vanessa missing, Vanessa’s car in the bank’s parking lot. Adele was likely hurt—he had to accept that more-than-possibility, and she didn’t have anyone waiting for her at home. But maybe she wasn’t fatally hurt and—

      “Dylan. Answers.” Vanessa gritted her teeth, and he wondered if it was to keep them from chattering.

      “Still no memory, then?”

      She was silent for a few moments, except for the rustling of her fidgeting. “No. I... No. My last memory is that morning in the store with your dad, but if I try to come up with a year or how old I am, it all jumbles up. Some things make sense and some don’t.” Her voice trembled at the end, and she didn’t say more.

      “You seem to be missing about a decade. More than, actually. I’ve been home from...college for ten years.”

      “Why’d you pause all weird before you said college?”

      “I didn’t,” he replied, irritated that she’d picked up on that. “Now, can we focus on the here and now?”

      “I have amnesia and lost ten years plus off my life and you—”

      “Just fought off two armed men who wanted to kick us around and use us for ransom. In the best-case scenario. Now we’re alone in the woods with no supplies or help. Do you have any idea where we are?”

      “It’s too dark. It’s too...”

      He wouldn’t let her panic, so he spoke over her. “The way I figure it we drove south out of town, and kept on that way since the sun was setting into the window when we left. That puts us close to Carson territory. Maybe.”

      “Maybe. But none of this looks familiar to me.”

      “That’s okay. We don’t want to be moving around in the night anyway. In the morning we’ll have a better idea.” One way or another. “How are you feeling?”

      “Am I really...?” She paused, then audibly swallowed.

      “Pregnant? As far as I know. You came by the bank to tell me. That’s when these men came in. I hope they didn’t kill Adele.” He muttered the last to himself. “I was too hard on her. Sharp mind, abrasive attitude, sure, but she was always a stellar employee. I should have...” Not the mission at hand though. He blew out a breath. “You need to rest. Tomorrow might be a bit of a rough day. We’ll have a lot of walking to do.”

      He moved from a crouch to a seated position next to her. He positioned the gun so he was able to hold it and wrap his free arm around her shoulders.

      She tensed and leaned away. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

      “Being your makeshift pillow, sweetheart.”

      “You think I’m going to sleep on you?” She sounded so horrified it gave him some semblance of hope.

      “You may not remember, but you’ve done a lot worse on me.”

      She recoiled, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “If it helps, on that front, I don’t remember either. It is no exaggeration that the night we were together was the drunkest I’ve ever been. Somewhere during the reception my mind goes black.” Maybe he had a few flashes here and there of soft sighs or the silk of her hair, but she didn’t need to know that.

      She didn’t lean into him, but she’d stopped leaning away. “I...”

      “It’s going to be a chilly night. We’ll keep each other warm. Hopefully, you catch a few hours sleep. We move at first light. No ulterior motives. Just common sense and getting through this...ordeal.”

      “Are they going to come after us?”

      Dylan wanted